The Corporation
by Jack Wong
Summary: Future fic about Batman Inc. turned evil empire. Familiarity with current comic events would be helpful. Comment if you like it


"I always thought I'd go out in a lot of gunfire," 1 says, and coughs. "I should have known it'd be this."

3 doesn't say anything. Yeah, he should have. You don't smoke like a broken engine and live until you're a hundred years old. Seventy-seven was an accomplishment, in fact - but, well, James Gordon was a fighter, so it wasn't too much of a surprise. He had laughed when he was diagnosed – not because he didn't take it seriously, but because-

"I've done so much," 1 says, "and to die in a hospital bed, I mean…"

3 smiles. "That's what you used to want, right?"

1 shakes his head. "Yeah, but that was before old age caught up to me. Trust me, 3, you don't want to wait this long to move on." He sighed. "If I could do it again I'd do some crazy thing kids were doing, or dress up and run around with-" he shuts his mouth.

"…right," 3 says, trying to ease off an uneasy subject. Suddenly he notices Gordon Sr.'s eyes fixated on the screen above, so intense that they might shatter it – James Gordon III turns on the remote control and flicks the air, turning the volume up.

This is usually where 1 makes a comment about not understanding modern technology, but he is dead serious, his face rigid. 3 turns his eyes away from his grandfather and up to the TV. "Speak of the devil," he says.

"We're standing in the press room of the Batman Inc. headquarters," Vanessa Vale says. 1 doesn't comment on her grandmother and how they look alike. He is focused on every word, not decided yet on whether he should be angry or not. "We're here because a conference has been called on short notice – we have been told that a major announcement is about to be made concerning the future of the corporation."

1's eyes turn inquisitive, and 3 stares.

It had long been speculated that the health of Bruce Wayne, CEO of the corporation, was starting to falter – all the best surgery in the world, the kind that James Gordon Sr. couldn't currently afford to combat his malignant lung cancer, had been performed to keep Mr. Wayne functional, but residual damage from his years as the first Batman had caught up with him in a big way – and a wheezing Bruce Wayne had appeared on TV a year ago. And as flashes and murmurs from the crowd of reporters began to bombard the large room, a familiar figure once again emerged – using a cane.

The room was shocked silent, and 3 felt his jaw drop. It was like god had been proven fallible – Batman, THE Batman, was handicapped. Sounds of surprise echoed throughout the hospital halls.

"Hello," the wheeze said into the microphone. Bruce looked terrible – it seemed like he was decaying fast. He cleared his throat and pressed a button in the air, turning a contact lens display on to read his prepared speech. "As you can tell," he said between breaths, "I am not in good shape. What has been said the world over is true." He paused to suck in air. "I am dying. The sunset has come to my time on earth. It is not, however," he said, leaving the billions in the countries served by the corporation to anguish in the time it took for him to recover his breath, "the end of Batman Incorporated. I will leave the country in the capable hands of my vice president, Dick Grayson." Bruce turned to the wings, clearly finished in his speech. "Goodbye everyone," he said, and started to hobble away from the podium.

Questions fired across the room, but the Incorporated press officer, Tom something, quickly walked in between the aged czar and his people. "Mr. Wayne will take no questions," he said before taking the stand himself. "And I will answer any that do not pertain to his health."

Vanessa raised her hand and Tom pointed. "Ms. Vale."

"How soon will Dick Grayson assume control of the corporation?"

"He already has," Tom said. "He will be giving his own press conference later tonight…"

"Grayson, huh?" Sr. laughed. "I remember when he wore his underwear outside his clothes. Both of them, in fact."

3 looked quietly around the room. "1…"

"Oh I'm dying," the old man said, "you think I give a shit about a confidentiality agreement?"

"It's not you I'm worried about," James III said.

1 stopped. "You're right," he said, and sighed. "I don't want to put you in danger." He paused. "I should write a book."

"I can't be here for this conversation," 3 said, and stood up.

"Oh come on," 1 said, "who's listening?"

3 stared down at his grandfather, whose smile quickly turned to a look of horror. "You-"

"I've got a call," James III said. "Goodbye 1." And he started to walk away.

"You're telling me-"

"I'm telling you nothing," 3 said as he neared the door. "I can't have that conversation either." He paused, and turned. "I love you old man."

Dealing with complex emotions, 1 eventually smiled. "Love you too kid. Go catch the bad guys."

Right.

James Gordon III left his grandfather's room in silence. There was another conversation he couldn't have with the man – the one where he told James Gordon Sr., legend of the now defunct GCPD, the man that once covered for Batman and made all of this possible, that he had seen his charts – that he knew Gordon 1 would die within two weeks. They both knew it, and it was possible 1 knew that 3 had checked in with the nurse, but no one was going to say anything because death, when it came to people like 1, was never supposed to happen – it was a subject best avoided.

x

Jim stared at his bed, dull colors, the background as juxtaposed with the sharp black phone in his hand. He looked up to the TV and saw them dissecting Wayne's appearance on the news, and made his decision.

"Barbara," he said into the phone.

"Hi dad," the lawyer said, trying to loosen her voice but obviously stressed. The big case, the one bringing Incorporated's systematic brutality to the courtroom, was on her mind even as they spoke. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, honey," he said. "I won't bother you for long. But I need that bag you've been holding for me."

There was a pause on the other end. "Are you sure?"

He nodded, as if she could see it – he still didn't have a holophone and such gestures were useless. "Yes. Yes I am."

x

Janjak, who had been sleeping in the patrol car, woke up with a start as his red-haired partner knocked on the window. "Jesus Christ, 3," he said as he sat up and turned the car on, unlocking the doors, "how long were you?"

"Fifteen minutes," 3 said, and sat down in the passenger seat.

"…oh," Janjak said, and they pulled away from Mercy.

"Wayne handed the corporation to Grayson."

Janjak's head turned quickly to judge 3's truthfulness – but seeing as his partner had no reason to lie, he turned back to the road. "Damn."

3 sighed. "I hope our jobs are secure," he said.

"I'm sure yours is," Janjak said. "Shit…"

"Look," 3 said, "my name only means so much."

"Your granddad was Wayne's friend."

"And my dad was a serial killer that was executed by the Corporation," 3 said. "Besides, the key word in your sentence would be 'was.'"

Janjak looked to 3. "What?"

"My grandfather WAS Wayne's friend." 3 stared at the road. "I can't say much more."

The driver nodded, then paused. "I read about your dad," he said.

James III suddenly found the world outside the window very interesting. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Janjak said. "Funny how far the apple falls from the tree."

3 paused. "You mean my dad from James Gordon, or me from him?"

"…both, I guess," Tom said. "Seems like your dad was one of the bigger bad guys back when; I didn't know that."

"I don't know much about him," 3 said, "and I really don't care to."

Janjak drove in silence. "Right," he said, and paused. "Banana."

"Yes?" came the computer's reply.

"Autopilot for 1405 333rd street."

"Done," the AI said, and Janjak took his feet and hands away from the controls. "So what have we got?"

3 realized he hadn't yet read about the scene they were going to check out, so he pulled it up on the dashboard holodeck. The two men stared at it, and Janjak was the first to squint.

"Wait, is…"

"Yeah, I don't exactly…" 3 stared. "Hmm."

"Doesn't look like evidence has showed up yet," 3 said, and Janjak flipped through the pages looking for more information.

x

"Yeah, I'm kind of stumped on this one," the plainclothes officer said. "It looks like…"

"It's a puzzle," James III said, and looked to the uniform. "Excuse me."

While Janjak got the details of the call, 3 walked around the room. A huge hole in the door – a door with an absurd amount of recently installed locks. A dead man, shot with the same gigantic shotgun used to blow the door open…from the inside.

A single chair.

Somehow, someone had…

Hmm.

One man in a room had been sitting when an assailant entered…and blew a large hole in him. There WERE signs of a struggle, but where this attacker entered FROM? It obviously wasn't the door.

3 was in the far corner of the room, next to a large pipe sticking out of the wall, when he noticed the blood – a large amount of blood, as though from a fountain. He leaned down and took a sample. There was another pool of blood surrounding what was left of the shotgunned man, but he doubted they came from the same person – what had happened here? He walked towards the corpse, and was leaning down to take another sample when several men he didn't know walked into the doorframe.

"Can I help you?" Janjak said, somewhat rudely, before noticing that the men outranked him several times over. "Uh…excuse me," he said, backpedaling-

"This scene is Third Tier now," the man said. "Gentlemen, if you would please vacate the area."

x

"Third Tier?" Janjak looked at 3 in disbelief as they left the building and headed towards the car. "I've never even met a Third Tier officer."

"Yeah," James III said. His processor beeped – must be the blood sample information. He paused, knowing it wasn't his business anymore, but he was interested. An odd scene, intrusion by high-ranking officers – this would shed light on some of the situation. He pulled it out, and summoned up the answers – and his jaw dropped.

Janjak looked over and saw his partner's look of shock. "What?"

"I, uh…"

"Banana," Janjak said, activating the AI, "Autopilot to headquarters."

"Done," the AI said.

"What is it?"

3 looked up to his partner. "I don't think you want to know."

Janjak looked quizzically at 3. "Just fucking tell me."

"It's the Joker."

"What do you mean, it's the Joker?" Janjak stared. "What's the Joker?"

"The blood in the corner," 3 said. "The DNA came back – look."

He held the processor's screen over for Janjak to see; 'Blood Results - Jack Napier.' Attached were a string of warnings and direction on how to call superiors, along with a rap sheet that might as well be a novelette.

"What?" Janjak said; "That doesn't make any sense. The Joker just-"

Suddenly, the AI light turned off.

Janjak turned to the controls. "What the…Banana?"

"What happened?" 3 asked.

"Computer's dead," Janjak said with disbelief.

3 looked at the dashboard. "Manual still work?" They were slowing down, but as Janjak pressed the gas they sped up again. "Huh."

Janjak nodded. "Been a weird day, huh?"

"Yeah," 3 said. "Yeah. I wonder-"

Suddenly something crushed the trunk, some sort of large object with fabric attached…

"What the-"

"What is it?" Janjak asked, focused as he was on righting the swerve the hit had caused.

"I don't know, it's…" 3 watched as something insane happened, something that made the day so far seem normal – it was a man, wearing a cape, that had landed on the back of the car. "What in the fuck-"

The car back on a solid course, Janjak turned to see the man stand up, having attached himself to the trunk. He watched in shock as 3 pulled out his gun and took aim-

The caped man pointed at the gun, and as 3 pulled on the trigger, nothing came out… "He's got a fucking electronics disabler," 3 said; "Janjak, give me yours!"

"What?"

"I said-"

And then, the computer turned back on. "Banana," Janjak said…

Nothing happened.

"Give me the gun!" James III yelled – then looked back to the man, who was climbing up the back windshield-

"Banana!" Janjak yelled. "We're in some serious shit here-"

The car took a turn, a wild one, and Janjak looked at the wheel in disbelief – it wasn't moving, but the car was turning-

"We're being hacked!" Janjak said, "holy-"

The car crashed into one in the next lane, and then made a direct line towards…

A cement wall…

Suddenly something very hot fell on James III's neck – it was singed ridiculously and he looked up and saw that whoever was on the car was burning a hole in the roof-

"3!" Janjak said.

"What?!"

Then the metal circle above 3 popped off, leaving a hole the size of the passenger seat in the roof and a man in…a suit staring down at James III-

"Take off your seatbelt!" he yelled.

3 looked ahead, at the wall approaching, then undid it. "Janjak, I'm sorry-"

"Go, go go!" his partner said, having accepted his own death. "See you in he-"

In milliseconds the man in the cape had pulled James up out of the car and cut the cord tethering them to the roof – he shot what must be a grappling hook off at a lightpost and James III felt the force as their speed shifted and thought this man might have broken one of his ribs and then they were flying out into the air and then…

An explosion, as the squad car with Janjak inside hit the wall at full speed and went up in flames. Holy shit.

3 looked to the man. "What the fuck!"

"I'm saving your life," the masked man said. "Shut up."

They swung up towards a building, and the man pulled the hook just at the right second to land them safely on the roof.

Once they were standing on something solid 3 lunged towards the man with the knife he kept in his shoe; the man turned to him and quickly disarmed him, throwing him lightly to the ground.

"You bastard!" 3 yelled. "You killed my partner!"

"No," the man said. "The corporation killed your partner. I saved your life."

James III stood up. "What are you talking about? I work for Batman Incorporated!"

"You think they wanted you to know it was Joker?" The man, whose mask, 3 could now see, loosely resembled an owl. "Don't be foolish. They hacked your car; you would have died if I hadn't pulled you out."

3 stared. "How did you know it was the Joker?"

"I know."

He was still unsure of the suited man, but James III knew fighting was useless."Who the fuck are you?" he asked; talking would have to do.

"You can call me Owl."

3 laughed. "Owl. Didn't your kind die out thirty years ago?"

The masked man straightened up. "No. We have merely been waiting."

"…I was talking about masked vigilantes," 3 said. Owl was silent. "So why save me? Am I supposed to become your sidekick?"

Owl walked over, slowly, and James III tensed up. "Important things are happening right now, and you play a role."

"What role is that, damsel in distress?"

"Don't make me smack sense into you."

3 went into defense mode, hands in chopping position, to be changed into fists mid-flight. Owl laughed, then got serious. "There is no time for games."

Suddenly James III noticed a helitaxi lowering itself above them, about to land on the roof… "Is that…"

"Yes," Owl said as sirens started to sound. "We have to go."

x

"How did this…ah…"

Dick Grayson, Tim Drake and Damian Wayne stood, waiting for their chief officer to regain his breath.

"How did this happen?" Bruce asked.

"The guy is absolutely insane," Damian said. "He must be 80 already and-"

"We're working on the problem," Grayson said, to a silent stare from Bruce's son. "You don't have to worry about it.

Bruce looked between the two scions, and then to Mr. Drake – he supposed it would be an extreme insult to ask him to leave, even though his comments were not going to be addressed to him. "Boys," he said, and wheezed again.

"It's not a problem," Damian said. "I understand."

Bruce smiled. "Damian, the corporation is yours."

Damian stared, and the two other men straightened up.

"In time."

The fists of the youngest, the blood heir and yet the least trusted, tightened to the point of breaking fingers. He walked off without a sound.

The elder Wayne turned to the two remaining. Dick Grayson, the first Robin, the adoptee that had grown up being raised by a masked madman, and Tim Drake, a man he could trust perhaps above all. "Tim," Bruce said. "You are now head of Wayne Enterprises." Tim nodded, and Bruce looked down.

"I have something I need to speak to Dick about in private," Bruce said. Tim stared, a little offended but not too much, and left, fists unclenched but manner a little annoyed.

"What is it Bruce?"

"About Damian," the old man said, and sighed.

"…yes," Dick said.

"He must never gain control of Batman Incorporated." Dick's eyebrows went up slightly. "On paper he will be the next in line. But when you feel your health begin to falter as mine has…" Bruce wheezed once again. "Kill him."

Dick paused for a half-second. This wasn't what he had expected to hear, but was along the lines of what he had planned to do all along.

"And Tim will take my place?"

Bruce nodded.

"Right," Dick said, and Bruce began to breathe heavily. "Bruce?"

"Sit me down," the old man said, and once he was firmly seated on the suite's couch his breath crisis stopped. Dick stood next to him, and as Bruce recovered he looked up to see the view – a breathtaking panorama of the city, Gotham, as it had been built by none other than himself. "You know," Bruce Wayne, the Batman, said; "I don't think I did a bad job."

Dick sat down, staring out over the city as well. "I think you did fine, Bruce." Dick stared at a subway train as its 16 cars zipped by on the covered track. "Things are better now."

"Yes," Bruce said. "Much, much better. Now Dick-"

There was a buzz at the entrance, and both men looked over. Dick stood, and walked to the video screen next to the door. It was Chuve, the head of Third Tier operations. He buzzed him in, and Chuve walked briskly inside. "Mr. Grayson," he said, nodding at Dick while walking past him. "Bruce, we have a situation."

Bruce Wayne looked across the room to the approaching Chuve, a sad but wide smile on his face. "I think, Mr. Chuve…that you had better get used to reporting to Dick."

And the balance of power, power unimaginable, changed hands in a sentence.

Chuve turned from the old ruler to the new. "I'm sorry Mr. Grayson-"

"That's fine. What's the situation."

"One of the cops that had been at the Joker scene…he survived."

Dick stared, and Bruce stood up. "Survived?" Dick asked.

Chuve nodded. "Now-"

"I thought you were going to crash the car," Bruce said in a rasp.

"We did, sir." Chuve paused.

"Well what happened," Dick said curtly.

Chuve looked for words. "There was a…a masked man."

Bruce laughed, but Dick knew Chuve was serious. "Tell us everything," he said. "Now."

x

The 'Owl' was smart, in a way – using a souped-up helitaxi meant that it would be hard for the corporation to find them in a crowd. They were flying over West Gotham when James III realized where they were going.

"Wait we're not…"

"I assumed," the Owl said, turning to 3, "that you might have something worth picking up at your home."

"No," 3 said. "I don't…" He paused. "You're sure the cops aren't there yet?"

"Others tell me that's the case."

3 looked up. "Others?"

"Don't concern yourself with this right now," the Owl says. "I'll tell you about us after you get your things."

James III nodded, slowly. "Right."

They landed on the roof of his tenement, and the Owl busted out the lock on the roof door. "I will give you a half hour."

3 nodded, and walked inside.

Down three flights of stairs – best not to take the elevators, 3 thought – then he was at his door. He fumbled with the keys, then realized that something was wrong – the lock had been picked. At night, when his shift usually ended, he might not have noticed, but right now, he certainly did. So he slipped the key in gently, pushed the door open slightly, and…

There was a hand, a white hand, a hand at the end of the arm of a person sitting in his armchair. James III pulled out his gun, and walked slowly, quietly, towards them-

"Oh do put that down," an overemphasized voice said from in back of him – crap, two people – stupid, James. He turned, holding the gun still but trying to make it not look threatening…

A smile.

"Well you look like you've seen a ghost, young man." It wasn't a ghost; it was a little more terrifying than that. The man facing 3, standing there next to the door with the huge shotgun that had presumably blown apart the man in the apartment at 1405 333rd, holding it with one hand and a bloody stump on the other arm where a hand had been, was the Joker himself. He puckered his lips and whispered; "Boo!"

James III stood there, still, unable to move.

"Well," the Joker said, his smile spreading further still, "it's so nice to know that I can still scare the kids. But I'm not here to kill you, James the third."

"Why are you here, then?"

The Joker raised his eyebrows. "You found your tongue! Congratulations."

James III took a step, and the Joker stepped forward too – just out of range for James to disarm him, and close enough for the buckshot to be scattering 3's guts in his mind.

"I said I'm not here to kill you." Closer, 3 could see that the Joker's smile was all smoke and mirrors – this was a sad old man. "That doesn't mean I won't. Now put the gun down before I make things…funny."

Screwed in five directions anyway, 3 placed the pistol on the ground, and kicked it towards the kitchen. "You got a story then, grampa?"

The Joker nodded. "Oh yes."

"Tell it. In five minutes a man in an owl suit is coming down to find me."

His eyes grew wide and the Joker's face creased, and suddenly it happened. He didn't take his eyes off of 3, but he laughed so hard James thought his jaw might detach, a laugh that felt like knives in his ears. "Owls?" he asked, and laughed more, piercing the air with evil...

"You were handcuffed in that room," 3 said, the pieces fitting together.

"Oh good show," the Joker said. "I heard you took after the Commish."

3 stared. "Don't say his name."

The Joker's face soured. "Look, if we're going to have any kind of conversation, we need to be on better terms."

"You're pointing a shotgun at me," 3 said. But more pieces fell into place, and James stepped forward again. "But it's not loaded."

The Joker looked disappointed. "Wanna bet?" The staring contest was short, ending with the Joker tossing the shotgun to the side and sighing. "Oh you're no fun," he said. "Now can we talk?" 3's eyes spoke death, and the Joker's lips turned into a slight smile. "Yes, I was handcuffed…"

"…and you broke off your hand. You took that man's shotgun and-"

"Oh yes," the Joker said. "I blew him to itty bitty shreds." He shrugged. "I felt worse about the door…"

"You're sick."

"Look," the villain said with a look of intense anger, "that man has been torturing me for decades. You'd have done the same."

"What are you talking about, you've been underground for thirty years!" 3's memory of the Joker's reign of terror came flooding back. "You've killed millions in-"

"Shut up!" the Joker said, loud and cutting. "That wasn't me; that was never me."

"Bullshit," 3 said. "What about all those videos?"

The Joker shuddered, and James could see he had hit a sore spot. "They were…videos, you see." He was suddenly extremely quiet. "That's where the…the torture…" He looked up. "It's been a lie. Batman and his little gang have been lying to you, and that's a truth no one knows – except you and me."

3 stared, pieces…starting to… "You're telling me," he said slowly, "that all the terrorism done in your name…wasn't you."

"Yes!" the Joker said, and clapped. "You ARE a Gordon! Oops," he said to 3's enraged face; "sorry."

James didn't know what to think. The Joker was a liar, that was true…but, according to Inc., he was in a stronghold in an Asian jungle. At least, there was no indication he'd been caught…

"Let's say I believe you," 3 said. "Why did you come here? What do you want?"

"I need a hand," the Joker said, and nodded to the one on the chair. "Literally."

"Doing what?"

"You see," the old man said, "there is someone that needs to die."

The Joker's eyes drifted behind James, and gathered a look of mild surprise; James turned and saw the Owl. He nodded in the Joker's direction; "I tried to-"

"You," the Joker said, with a smile. "I remember you."

The Owl stared. "We're leaving."

3 pointed to the Joker. "What about-"

"Both of you," the man in the suit said.

"Oh, this will be fun," the Joker said.

They marched up the stairs, the Owl first to make sure no one saw the Joker. Soon enough were up in the sky again, an anonymous taxi in a traffic jam, heavy with the weight of the world.

x

"Dad, I'm not sure about-"

"You made a promise, Barbara," James Gordon Sr. said. "Give me the bag."

Standing above the dying man, the grey-haired woman Barbara Gordon had become did what she had come here to do – and handed it over. James Sr. smiled.

"Thank you."

He pulled out the contents – a large book. He looked up to Barbara to see tears in her eyes. "Goodbye dad," she said, too strong to sob.

"Goodbye Barbara," he said, and put his hand in hers. "Tell 3 that I-"

"No." Barbara shook her head. "You have to see him first."

"…that I want to see him right away," James Sr. said, and smiled. He knew she wanted to leave. That she couldn't stay here without taking it back. "Keep fighting the good fight, for me," he said.

"You know I will," Barbara said.

"I do," James Sr. said. "I do."

As his daughter left, Gordon opened the large tome – he turned to page two hundred, after which the good part started. He stared at the book, and knew it was time – 3 would visit him soon, he was sure, but 1 might not be able to wait.

x

Damian stood there, staring at Grayson. "You let him do this."

"That's right," Dick said. "What was I going to do, stop him? He's not in a retirement home, he's-"

"You're putting him in danger," Damian said.

"To be honest," Grayson said, "Bruce's safety is not my first concern."

"What are you talking about," Damian asked.

"In case you haven't noticed, I am now running a trillion dollar business," Dick said. "I care for Bruce, of course, but his legacy is more important to me." He paused, staring at the angry imp; even though he had grown, Damian would always be a little brat to him. "I also think it's more important to him."

There was a long silence, during which Grayson stared at Damian. He was about to go into one of his temper tantrums. The imp cleared his throat.

"You're missing something, Dick," Damian said. He had decided to play his card.

Grayson smiled. "Yeah?"

"You inherited the business," Damian said. "But I'm getting something too."

Dick laughed. "Right, but-"

"You see Dick," Damian said, "I don't need Bruce's money; that's not what I care about inheriting."

Dick's face slowly tightened, and suddenly his grip on Incorporated felt loose. "Bruce's stock is going to be evenly distributed among us. You know that."

Damian smiled. "Yes, but his 33% isn't the bulk of the shares." The imp stared out of the window. "I've taken an interest in the stock market as of late. Or I should say, my dummy investors have." He turned back to Dick. "After I inherit my 11%, I will have enough stock for a controlling interest in Batman Inc."

"Bullshit," Dick said.

"Wait and see," Damian said with a smile. "But I wouldn't get too comfortable in the throne, if I were you." And the brat turned to walk away.

Dick stared out of the window. Shit.

He turned on his phone and dialed Bruce, whose assistant picked up. "Gina," he said, "I need to talk to him, now."

"What is it," Bruce said, his wheeze worse than normal.

"It's Damian," Dick said. "He's buying Incorporated stock. He'll be head of the board when you…I mean, when you die."

The silence on the other end told Dick that Bruce hadn't foreseen this, and was as surprised as Dick. "I'll remove him from the will," Bruce said, "once I get back."

"No," Grayson said.

Bruce laughed, and it strained him. "What?" he managed to eke out.

"We should do it now."

x

James Gordon Sr. looked up as a man in a combat suit entered the room – Incorporated. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice hoarse and barely audible.

The man was canvassing the room, apparently; he was looking under everything, and walked over to Gordon and nodded. "Sit up."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he said in a whisper. "What is this?"

The agent stared for several seconds, then walked towards the door. "Clear," he said down the hall. Gordon could hear someone respond, but not what they said. Then, he heard several sets of footsteps, slowly making their way through the hallway. A man with a large gun entered first, and then…

Bruce Wayne.

At first the world's most powerful man, as declared by some magazine Gordon had read recently, said nothing, but as he got closer the wheeze from television came out. "Hello Jim," he said.

Gordon smiled, and said, in a loud whisper, "Hello Batman."

Bruce laughed, causing a coughing fit – "You're worse than me!" he said eventually.

Jim nodded, and Bruce walked in close.

"I wanted to say goodbye."

Gordon stared. "I thought you might."

"And I wanted to say thank you," Bruce said, "for keeping to our agreement, all this time." He paused. "I can never repay you for that."

"No," Gordon said, weakly. "But that's alright." He smiled. "Bruce, I was hoping you'd come. I wanted to say something to you, as well."

"What is it?" Batman asked.

Commissioner Gordon looked at the men present. "Just between us," he said to Bruce. He sat up in the bed, putting his hand down to steady himself, and moved to speak in Bruce's ear; Bruce leaned in.

"What is it, old friend?"

Suddenly, Gordon's hand shot up, and the surgical knife that had been hidden in the book buried itself deep into Bruce's neck. With a voice as loud as he could muster, Gordon yelled "I WANTED TO TELL YOU TO-"

His words, a sentence never to be finished, were broken by rapid gunfire as two automatic rifles pumped lead into his torso, enough that when they stopped, he was already dead. But all the first aid those present could apply to Bruce Wayne couldn't undo what had happened; within a matter of seconds, both men were dead.

x

"Dick!" Damian said, running past the guard that had let him in the suite. "Bruce is dead! Oh god…" But when the youngest saw Dick Grayson, the first Robin, it only took a few seconds to put together a more disturbing puzzle. Damian Wayne, once a Robin himself, stood in one of the most expensive places to stand in Gotham, a center of power that dwarfed the reach and strength of most states, and knew that he wasn't dreaming, that this was no nightmare - his world had actually gone to hell.

x

"Owls," the Joker said with a smile to the room of masked men. His laughter had lasted for too long upon entering, and he wiped his eyes. "I never thought you'd raise your heads again after what happened back-"

"Quiet," an old man said.

"Or what," the Joker sneered; "going to peck at me?"

James III stared at the men gathered in the room – some of them looked like the Owl; in fact, they looked exactly like him, to the point that, after glancing away, he wasn't sure which one had been his rescuer. Others were dressed in normal clothes, but all wore the same mask. "Who are you?" he asked the man that had spoke.

"They're this 'secret society' you see," the Joker said, putting the noun in gestured quotation marks. "They controlled Gotham once…and lost it! Haha!"

"You are unnecessary," another man in a mask said to the old arch-nemesis of the Bat. "We will kill you without hesitation."

"No," another man in a mask said. "No, we can use him."

3 looked around the room. "Someone tell me what is happening," he said, "and why I'm here." The men in normal clothes looked between each other, and then one looked to the Owl and his lookalikes.

"Talons, leave us."

"As you wish," came a unison reply, and what 3 could guess was the warrior caste walked towards the exit.

The Joker laughed. "Oh I forgot! The Talons!" He made a mock serious face as he incanted a poem: "Beware the Court of Owls, they watch you all the time-"

"Take him," one of the men told the Talons, and three came to escort the Joker out of the room.

"Oh, I get the guest treatment! Thank you so - ow!" The three picked the Joker up roughly, and carried him towards the next chamber.

Once he was gone the man that had been speaking the most turned to James III.

"We are, as our friend implied, a secret society. Our roots go back hundreds of years."

"The Joker said you controlled Gotham."

"That's true," the man said, "but Batman flushed us out of the city." He paused. "Our city. And we have been biding time until our return to power."

3 nodded. "You're going to take down the corporation."

"Yes," the man said.

James III stared. "How."

"Excuse me sirs," one of the Talons said through an open door; the Joker's loud laughter could be heard in the background. "There is something you should see; it's on every channel." The door closed and one of the masked men flicked the air, turning on a gigantic screen that had until that point been projecting a large wood-grained surface.

There, being led out of the Batman Inc. headquarters in handcuffs, was Damian Wayne. He was silent, but his emotions told those watching that he was thinking hard. The tagline told the viewer that he was being arrested for the death by poison, the assumed murder, of Dick Grayson, the recently inaugurated head of Incorporated. It was speculated that Bruce Wayne would not return to take the company back, and by default rule of the corporation would go to Mr. Tim Drake.

"Well," one of the men in the owl masks said.

"What does this mean?" one of the men said, addressing the main speaker.

"It means that the time to strike is now."

x

"Terrible news, just terrible," Chuve told Tim Drake.

"You mean about Dick and Bruce? Quite," Tim said, both of their eyes glued to the newscast on the giant screen in a dead man's executive suite. "But what is this emergency that should take priority over funeral preparations?"

Chuve looked down. "We've, uh…there have been Owls sighted. They have the Joker. The real Joker."

Tim's eyebrows shot up. "Where are they now?"

"We're having trouble tracking them-"

"Shut down all subversive activity. Vacate all facilities. I don't want any of our men caught with weapons."

"I'm not authorized to-"

"Then go find someone who is." Tim stared at the Third Tier officer. "If the Owls blow our cover the Corporation is over and you know that." Chuve was at a loss for words. "Go!" Drake yelled.

As his minion left the room Tim watched Gotham move through the room-sized window. This was his city now.

"Excuse me," Creighton Pennyworth said at the door.

"Hello Creighton," Tim said.

"Damian's bail has been set at a trillion dollars. Should-"

Tim laughed. "That's all?"

"Which fund should we use?"

"None," Tim said.

Creighton paused. "You're saying…"

"He may be a Wayne in name, but we are all Bruce's sons. He killed Dick. No, we will not post bail." And within three hours, Damian will be stabbed to death in his cell. "Now, about the funerals."

"…right," Creighton said, pulling up a holo-screen. "Well, Bruce will have to be taken around the world."

"Naturally," Tim said, knowing that the grin shining bright in his soul could not actually cross his face, now or forevermore.

x

"Where are we going?" 3 asked over the hum of the hovercraft engine.

"To a jungle in Asia in the Narrows, of course," the Joker said with a smile.

3 looked to the two owl masks in the taxi. "He's right," one said.

"The Joker is in Gotham?" 3 quickly turned to the clown. "Uh, never mind."

"Their base has always been here," the man said. "Wayne manufactures their weapons." As this information banged around in 3's skull the Owl nodded to the Talon next to him. "Start shooting." And he pointed at the Joker, who laughed, dry.

"Ha."

The camera turned on. "Talk," the Talon said.

"Oh joy!" the Joker said, "Showtime! Well daddy Batman's been quite the naughty one, children. You see dear old moi has been stuck in a dark room for ages. They just moved me and I broke free!" His lack of a hand came up to his face, and Joker looked down at it. "Long story," he said in a mock tone.

Then his eyes turned cold. "You all have been lied to for decades, you ignorant sheep. You let Batman handle your safety and daddy was the one killing you the whole, damn, time." He sneered, and with a crusty, disgusting wink he leaned in. "Not that I wouldn't have been if I hadn't been held up!" And he laughed…oh god.

3 stared; he had never seen anything so evil in his life. The Joker shook, his entire body convulsing, and the others in the taxi tensed up instinctively. "Stop," the owl mask said, but he did not. "Stop!"

Suddenly there was something in the Joker's hand, and it swung towards the man in the mask – blood ruptured from his neck and as the Talon put down the camera its mask was ripped off and the Joker, so fast to be so old, stabbed out its eyes as it grabbed for its gun – a few more slices and the soldier was useless. The Joker laughed, and put his knife out so that 3's blow, instead of landing on the old man's neck, did little but impale itself on the blade.

James Gordon III yelled in pain and the Joker shoved him to the side, where the younger man slammed into the wall. When 3 looked up, Joker had another knife in his hand and was eyeing him like a hungry animal, but one that could control its appetite.

"Look, you may have the wrong idea," the old man said. "I'm not going to kill you."

"Why not?"

"Oh what a brave question!" He laughed. "Because what's about to happen should be rather funny."

3 shook his head. "You're crazy."

"Yes!" the Joker said with a smile. "Oh yes." He turned to the taxi, glancing at the coordinates. "And we're almost there." He leaned in close to the system. "Hurry the hell up!"

x

He would be the last man to leave, and he couldn't exactly walk out with the rest of them either. No, the supreme commander of the Joker army might as well go down with the ship, captain that he was.

"Sir orders were to vacate-"

"I heard the orders," he said, making sure his subordinate could see the assault rifle in his hands, punctuating his sentence. The officer left him, and he was alone.

Alone in a room full of explosives. A room full of war. The real Joker had escaped, huh? He knew where the clown was headed – the Joker was coming here.

And here he would be, waiting. He wouldn't be surprised to hear the sounds of guns in the hallways, accompanied by a chorus of hyenas squealing, laughter unholy. He wouldn't be surprised to see that white face come around the corner. He raised his gun. He wouldn't be surprised…

But it wasn't the Joker that came into sight. It was…

It couldn't be.

"…son?"

3 looked out over the room to the source of the voice, and there was, unmistakably, his father. The late James Gordon Jr., shame of the bloodline, was standing right there with a huge gun. 3's mouth dropped open. "You-"

The Joker pushed 3 aside and pulled the trigger, barely missing Jr. and almost hitting an explosives cache. James Jr. grimaced; the Joker had played him, and he had wasted his advantage on his offspring. "Come and get me, clown!"

"Oh I'll do that," the Joker said, and picked 3 up with strength that made no sense, as though evil was the fountain of youth. "The question is, how much do you love the boy?"

"I've never known him," Jr. said, but he was clearly distraught.

"So you're saying shoot him, then?" With a laugh the Joker pushed the gun into 3's face, watching Junior for a reaction. "Drop the gun you bastard," the Joker said. "I just want to talk."

"Talk?" James Jr. laughed. "About what?"

"Okay," the Joker said, "I confess; I am here to kill you. But not with such cowardly weapons!" He looked to the gun in mock disgust. "Guns! Who invented them? Men that couldn't do it with their hands, that's who."

Junior stared. "Fine. Hand to hand how you want to go?" The Joker commander dropped his gun. "Come and get it."

"You were such a good student," the Joker said, advancing. "Always a little too good at following orders though."

"Something you never were good at, old man."

"Yes," the Joker said. "That's why they shut me away," he said, getting heated, "and let you have all the fun!" Within range, he looked like he might explode with rage. "With my name!"

"Little bitter, aren't you?" James Jr. said, smirking-

"That's NOT funny!" the Joker yelled, and lunged with an electric buzzer on his palm, missing by inches – Junior kicked him, hard in the stomach, and the old man crumpled.

He fell like a bag of sticks, skin with a little something inside, and just as fast the fight was over. Junior looked up to his son, and saw that in 3's hand…

Was a camera.

Junior laughed. "So it's true," he said. "You take after dad." He smiled. "It was nice to see you, once," he said, and picked up the gun. "But the reunion's over."

3 looked to his left, at the gun the Joker had dropped – "Don't think about it," Junior said, and 3 took a look back in his father's direction. And what he saw was a wretched heap of something that wouldn't die, easing silently across the floor towards Junior's leg.

"Look dad," 3 said, thinking fast, "it doesn't have to be like this."

Junior laughed. "I beg to diff-"

What was left of the Joker plunged a needle into James Jr.'s right calf, and with a noiseless cackle the body shook violently as the demon that had inhabited it left to find another host. The Joker died, decades after he should have, with a smile as wide as the world.

Junior started to laugh.

3 looked up and watched the effects of the legendary laughing toxin start to show – and saw that even though he might only be alive for seconds, it was his father's intent to kill him with the time he had left.

James Jr. came towards him and 3 couldn't move. All he had to do was step away – and he was rooted to the spot. Laughing, tears running down his cheeks, shaking, here came the father to murder the son.

He got within inches of 3, and then something hit Jr. in the head. Then something else, and then 3 could tell that someone in invisibility armor was there, throwing Junior aside. As his father tightened up into the death smile and stopped moving, the person de-cloaked in front of 3. It was a woman, young as he was probably.

"I had your back the whole time," the soldier said.

James 3 stared. "What?"

"Give me the video, I'll take it to Vanessa Vale."

"Who are you?" 3 asked, but he knew, for whatever reason, that he could trust her.

"That doesn't matter," the invisible woman said, and paused. "Things are going to get pretty wild here soon. After the news breaks."

3 nodded. "That's an understatement."

"I like you, 3. I feel like we're fighting the same fight." She paused. "Will you help me?"

"The owls will be here any second," 3 said. "If you get me out of here, I'll do anything you want."

Up in the air, in an invisible ship with someone he didn't know, James III felt the world changing. Wayne and the Corporation would crumble. Gotham would need new guardians, new stewards. He turned to the woman. "I'll help you," he said, "if you can get me a suit."


End file.
